A MIND COMPLETELY BITTEN BY THE SERPENT OF SEX "You may think that the Grand Tour is about politics, & culture, & art, and you would be quite right; but it is also about gambling, and drinking, and sex. Particularly sex."

The usual gorgeous slice of pizza from the station on my arrival, and a roll to have later. Very pretty new blonde barmaid but desperately thin. If she gained another 5 stone in weight she’d be sensational. Still, still, still, I have the feeling I could even now bring Munich to some kind of life—if I tried to do something with one of the Schillerstraße girls. In my first Munich golden age I had great experiences because I was prepared to splash the cash. I never do in Munich anymore; I still wonder if—expensive as it might be, as much money as it might require—if there is SOME fly I could awake from the amber. It would be one of the small places. Not Atlantic City or Tiffany. They are too regulated and boring. The small places up the road are a little bit more “wild west” as it were. I’m talking myself into returning to Munich but I’ve ruled out any more long train journeys for a long while; just make do with Brussels only in 2017 for a long time, to save money. 2017 is going to be a year for finally TACKLING my debts. Not just keep hoping by some miracle they will come down by themselves, but actually doing something and making sacrifices to make sure it happens. I’ve already started, but it will be a while before the improvements really come through in the figures. “Stop drinking!” “Stop looking at pussy!” I hear my beloved ex-wife saying, bless her. What a truly wonderful person she quite often can be. I don’t know if it is my imagination but the Dorint Zipfer seems a fraction colder than usual.

I must admit I am curious now about what a 50 euro private dance in a place like Dolly or Candy Bar would be like; I think those girls would be quite naughty; more so than in the bigger Atlantic City or Tiffany. I will give it a go next time I stop over in Munich. Perhaps there IS some bang for your buck. Anyway, I’m stopping off in Frankfurt on my way back (presuming I don’t change it at the last minute and carry on all the way to Brussels). Not particularly cold; for December ridiculously mild. Boringly so. Maybe not particularly exciting in Munich last night, but it was titillating enough to get me in the mood for it now. A rising sense of excitement as we head towards Vienna. 0848 Still 2 hours 40 minutes to go. But a lovely quiet train (1st class would have been even better of course). My erections coming & going in a pleasantly heady, lubricious mood.

I never even remembered to go to the Sexyland kabins. Means I got through 65 euros on my one night in Munich; to go with the 12 in Brussels. My Regent Hotel bedroom was like a monk’s room; in tribute to Munich’s historic past I presume. Like the room you’d put a penitent sinner in. The bed inside a wooden box. I nearly smashed my head open when my room phone rang with my wake up call at 6 this morning and I had to jump from my bed to the desk, only noticing the wooden post at the end of my bed with a split second to spare. The conductor has just pointed out to me my ticket is actually for a FIRST class seat. I remember now booking the ticket weeks in advance it was only a few euros more expensive for a 1st class seat so I thought yes, why not, let me treat myself! First time I’ve ever booked a 1st class seat and then I forget to use it. Anyway, don’t want to move now and probably find the 1st class carriages are nearly full when I get there. I stay. Idiot. I booked the ticket such a long time ago I’d forgotten all about it. I blame myself.